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Gripping the base of his shaft in her
hand as she’d seen him do, she pulled him forward and into her
mouth. He cursed, more groan than expletive, and the sound was like
a hot spike between her legs. She loved this, she loved that
sucking him hard and deep and strong into her mouth, mimicking the
play of their tongues when they kissed, could give him such
pleasure. His groans fueled her, his hands fisting in her hair
spurred her on and each time she moved along his length her thighs
grew wetter with the dripping proof of her lust. It was wrong, it
was wrong, it was wrong. But it felt so good.

There had been a hunger in her, a need
to put her mouth on him since the moment she’d laid eyes on him and
only now was that obsession being relieved. She felt as if she
could drown in him, suck all that was Damon into her very skin and
make him apart of her.

Over the weeks they’d talked and played
nice, she’d dreamed of this. Dreamed of dragging her tongue all
over his body until he squirmed beneath her as she’d squirmed
beneath him. At first she’d shied away from the mystery of his sex,
even in her dreams, but soon it had been a compulsion. She’d wanted
to explore that part of him that brought her so much pleasure,
wanted to drag light nails over the soft sac hanging just below it
that had slapped against her own slit so deliciously.

So that’s what she did. And as soon as
her nails made their careful circuit, she turned her concentration
on the liquid that kept beading on the head of his shaft. She
lapped it up like a cat, circling and sucking only at his tip.
Loving the salt and heat of him, the distinctive feel of him
against her lips and tongue. Then his hands in her hair tightened,
pulled her to her feet and she looked up in time to meet Damon’s
mouth. He shared the taste of his body in her mouth while she
moaned and whimpered and dragged shaking hands along his
chest.

When he reached for her breasts and
encountered the material of the chemise he jerked as if he’d been
shocked. His hands clenched in the material and he tensed as if he
would rip it from her. She retained enough presence of mind to
angle her lower body away so she could work the sleeves down over
her arms and then down her hips, her lips never breaking from his.
Jocelyn kicked the dress aside, and Damon made a low sound of
approval. His fingers weighed her breasts, massaged them, squeezed
them until lights were exploding in her head and she was arching
into his palm. Then his nails scrapped across the sensitive flesh
and her knees buckled. He followed her to the ground with his mouth
tracing a burning path to her breasts. Flicking her nipple back and
forth with his tongue, biting and soothing away the sting while he
held her still each time she surged up against him with a gentle
hand on her stomach.

She rubbed against him and felt a
thrill race along her spine when his hands brushed her thighs. He
spread her there, on the beach and under the moonlight and Jocelyn
was only dimly aware of the sand sticking to the sweat along her
back. Her eyes closed as she felt the familiar blunt head of his
shaft pushing at her entrance. She was so hot, so wet and ready for
him. She’d been ready for him for what seemed like forever but that
didn’t quell the brief flutter of nervousness in her
chest.

Damon gripped her chin and Jocelyn’s
eyes opened, blinking back a new wave of tears as his head settled
more securely in her passage.

“Princess.” Oh, just that one word was
enough for her body to clench and send more liquid to smooth his
way. “I want to see the look in your eyes while I take
you.”

She tried to do as she was told, she
honestly did, but when his hips flexed and he thrust his way inside
of her she couldn’t help but throw her head back, eyes closed, and
utter a breathless cry. When the haze had cleared she looked up to
see Damon’s face. His eyes were still as bright, like quicksilver,
but his face wasn’t tight anymore. It was as relaxed as she’d ever
seen it and his lips when they brushed across her face were
soft.

“Sorry.” Her voice broke on the word
but he hushed her with a grin.

“Just get used to me, Princess. If you
can keep your eyes open for the rest of it I think I can forgive
you.” He shifted, and she whimpered as his thickness stretched
against her walls.

His hands were beneath her knees and
she relaxed everything below her waist as he shifted again. Angling
her hips a bit further off the ground so that when he slid all the
way into her, he did so with a sudden surge that sunk him to the
hilt. He cursed and Jocelyn gave a trembling sigh. She could feel
him pressed against the mouth of her womb, could feel his pulse
from within her body. She was full now. It felt strange but it was
better, so much better than that terrible emptiness of before. This
connection, this melding of bodies tied her to him in a way that
was irrevocable, and she reveled in it.

Wiggling her hips, she watched in
fascination as Damon’s eyes crossed.

If he was going to be making faces like
that then there was no way she was closing her eyes
again.

She wiggled once more and a muscle in
his jaw jumped.

Fascinating.

“Used to me yet?”

The question came out strangled and as
she considered she leaned up to lick the sweat beading his neck.
The pain had faded, over almost as soon as it had made itself known
and now her inner muscles simply clenched around the foreigner in
their midst, drawing him in. If that didn’t mean she was ready for
him she didn’t know what did. Smiling up into his slowly darkening
face, she nodded.

The first stroke was experimental, it
was nice.

The second was harder; it made her
squirm beneath him.

The third brought her legs up around
his waist and her nails into the flesh of his shoulders, because he
thrust hard but dragged out agonizingly slow.

After that third thrust … Jocelyn was
lost and Damon along with her.

They were nose to nose as his hips
flexed and brought them together with the sound of flesh slapping
flesh. Her heart pounded to his rhythm, feeling almost out of
control. She gasped, panting with each withdrawal, with each deep
thrust.

The thatch of hair on his groin rubbed
her clit, driving her mad with desire. She arched against him,
moaning his name.

It felt good. So good, better than
anything they’d done so far, and each stroke only made it better.
The way he gripped her hips angled her in such a way that with each
push, his pelvis struck against her clit and the shocks left her
trembling beneath him.

At first her own movements were
awkward, but she caught the tempo and rhythm of his body soon
enough. There were too many new sensations for her to focus on
Damon’s eyes above her but in her moments of clarity she knew he
watched her. Knew he noticed every nuisance on her face and that
made the pleasure that much sharper. When her eyes fluttered, he
dropped one of her legs until only his remaining grip on her knee
kept her from sliding into a gelatinous pool on the ground. The
move pushed him deeper than she could have imagined. He crowded
closer to her, pinning her against the ground. She could almost
hear his heart beat.

“No, Jocelyn.”

Oh god it felt good to hear him growl
her name like that. She fluttered her eyes just to hear him say it
again and felt something low and dangerous began to flicker to life
in the center of her soul when snarled,

“Jocelyn. You’ll keep your eyes on me,
Princess. I want you to remember this. From now on whenever you
look into my eyes I want you to remember how well we fit
together.”

His words pushed through her with the
force of a knife and all of a sudden it wasn’t her hips that were
angling and lifting, it was Damon’s. His fingers dug into her thigh
and he thrust into her with a violence that would have hurt had she
not been so wet for him. He held her with one hand while he held
himself above her with the other and all throughout his eyes never
left hers.

It was one of the first times outside
of ballet that she found herself grateful that she was so limber.
He pounded into her while her calf somehow found itself pressed
against his shoulder when he searched for and found a deeper angle.
If she’d been concentrating on the burn in her muscles she would
have missed the exquisite torture of his shaft rubbing along inside
of her and the second by second thrills that chased one another
through her body, growing stronger with each stroke of his flesh.
She clawed his shoulders, bent the leg he wasn’t gripping at the
knee and anchored herself. Pushed forward to meet him until they
moved in tandem.

Animalistic, bestial, he claimed her
until Jocelyn’s vision swam to white and the only thing that
anchored her to the world was the gray of his eyes. Somehow the
fact that his gaze never wavered, that he never allowed hers to
either, made what they did more earth-shattering. He didn’t just
brush her womb, he hit her soul. Then he shifted and the head of
his shaft struck something good and just kept hitting it over and
over again until her soul shattered, her inner muscles clenching
and weeping and sucking her pleasure from each cell, and tendon
until she was left empty and shaking and gasping for breath. She
cried out his name, hanging on to him as the spasms wracked her
body, her fists clenching and unclenching as the pleasure rode
through her core and left her mindless in its wake.

She went limp in his arms, felt his
withdrawal as he groaned his own release. Felt the hot liquid of
his orgasm shoot past her thighs into the sand beneath
them.

She sighed, reaching for him, pulling
him down atop her to feel the weight of him crushing against her,
making her warm and tingling. Damon kissed her eyes until they
drifted shut while around them, the world dissolved into an ocean
of stars.

* * * *

When she could see straight she turned
her head to find Damon slumped on the ground beside her with his
eyes closed and his face pale.

Smiling she reached over to shake
him.

Provided there was very little strength
in her arms but Damon didn’t so much as budge. His eyes remained
closed and it was only when she heard how shallow his breathing was
that panic began to replace the lethargy. It took several tearful
tries before she managed to roll him onto his back. He lay there,
limp and dead looking and Jocelyn nearly choked on her grief. When
she checked the bandage that covered his side and pulled back a
hand, her palm was covered in blood.

His pulse was steady, strong when she
pressed her ear against his chest and her fingers against the side
of his neck. But he was still out cold.

The panic was replaced by rage, and
then the amusement came and the mix of all three made her already
weak body sway.

He’d passed out. From blood loss. And
he’d done it to be with her.

Jocelyn pressed her face against his
neck, let herself rest there and breathe him in until she got
enough strength in her legs to stand. Then she went to wet more
pieces of her dress for new bandages.

* * * *

Damon awoke the next morning with the
smell of roasting fruit and Jocelyn filling his nose. He hurt like
hell and he was still woozy but other than that he was in heaven.
Sitting up was a chore and increased the dull throbbing in his side
but he did it anyway. First, because he was hungry. And second
because he was … well, hungry. He slid disinterested eyes over the
cooked fruit and settled on Jocelyn. He grinned at her and she
blushed scarlet from the neck of her chemise to the top of her
pretty blond head.

“Oh, Princess.” He crooned, his voice
sing song and lilting. He saw her sway in his direction and
smothered a burst of triumph. “My pretty, Princess. Come over here
and talk to me for a minute.” It wasn’t an outrageous request
considering she was nearly half the clearing away. Her eyes fell on
his bandages and she swallowed and straightened her
spine.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because … because you’ll touch me and
that will lead to … other … things.” Her voice got weaker and
weaker as he continued to stare at her and finally her eyes
dropped.

He considered what she said seriously
before nodding his head. “You’re right of course,” he said before
shrugging his shoulders in indifference. “What’s your point
darlin’?”

She lunged forward as if to help him or
stop him but then seemed to catch herself and pulled back. Scowling
she snapped, “What do you mean what’s my point? My point is that
you were attacked yesterday. You were in no condition to do what we
did. You still aren’t.”

His grin was pure mischief, and he
could see her resolve weakening. “What did we do?”

Her lips tightened and she turned away
from him.

Damon considered her profile, studied
the neat braid trailing down her back and her curvy body. Then his
head slumped in defeat and with a groan of pure agony he collapsed
back onto the ground.

Jocelyn was at his side in an instant,
and he had her beneath him even quicker than that. He tsked at the
shock on her face.

“Such a sweet girl.” He ran his tongue
across the seam of her lips, nipped the corner. “Such a kind girl.”
His fingers danced down the front of her body, between her breasts
and he felt her tremble. “My naïve, Princess.” And then he claimed
her mouth. Soft, sweet and sensual until she sighed against him and
her entire body melted.